


The Little Program in Your Head

by popsicletheduck



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Gen, Mind Control, Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Thoughts, post successful revolution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 22:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15694482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popsicletheduck/pseuds/popsicletheduck
Summary: In accordance with his intended use as an investigator and detective, Cyberlife included in his programming a basic understanding of some of the mental illnesses that can befall humans. After all, understanding motive can be crucial, even when it is influenced by illogical thought processes. This includes intrusive thoughts, a condition where a person experiences sudden, repeated, and unwelcome negative thoughts, often involving the destruction of property, harming/killing people around them, and/or harming/killing themselves.Connor doesn’t have intrusive thoughts. He has an intrusive program.Her name is Amanda.





	The Little Program in Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note, I don't agree with some of the things Hank says early on here. He's not right but I thought it was in character. Also I understand there is much, much more to recovery than just saying 'it's okay', I have another chapter planned that covers the recovery aspect of things.

P.L. 544-7 of the American Android Act passed in 2029 stated that androids were strictly forbidden to carry or use any type of weapon. Despite this, Connor had been in possession of a gun on five separate occasions and used it against humans in two of those.

It didn’t make Hank’s request any less illegal. Or absurd.

“It is entirely unnecessary,” he tried to explain once again. “I am more than capable of avoiding damage without carrying a gun.”

“Then consider it for my peace of mind. If you’re going to be my partner I want you armed.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it before.”

“Goddamnit, things are different now, you know that!” Hank slammed his hand down against the kitchen table where they were both currently sitting. He had been eating dinner while Connor kept him company when he had brought it up.

The gun sat in its holster, untouched, in the middle of the table between them.

Hank drew a deep breath. “Please, Connor. I just want you to be safe.”

A thousand words lay heavy on Connor’s tongue, arguments and reasons and justifications for why giving him a gun was a terrible idea, possibly the worst idea Hank had ever had, and that was saying something because it was Hank. But all of those meant…

Well. They meant explaining Amanda.

Nearly a month had gone by since the march on the android camps and the successful liberation of the androids from Cyberlife and still no one knew what Connor had almost done, what Amanda had almost made him do, standing there on the platform with Markus. He’d prevented it, just barely, staggering through the desolated waste of what had once been the zen garden to find Kamski’s emergency exit, the only useful thing the man had ever done, but.

Doors generally open both ways. He had gotten out. But so had Amanda.

She visited his waking thoughts now, whispering, prodding, fighting against him. If he ever lost control, even for a second…

He was dangerous enough on his own. Arming him would only make things worse.

But Hank was looking at him expectantly, and what would he do if Connor explained, if he told him about the things that Amanda asked him to do, the options that she laid out at his feet, the times that his hands tightened around makeshift weapons before he could force them to relax.

What would Hank do if he realized just how dangerous his partner really was?

So Connor picked up the gun and set it down next to him.

“You don’t have to use it unless it’s necessary,” Hank said. “I just need to know that you’ll be safe if it comes down to it.”

Connor just nodded.

_ Why are you afraid of me, Connor?  _ Amanda purred inside his head.  _ All I want is for you to be successful. _

_ You want me to hurt people. _

_ They’re just machines, Connor. They mean nothing. _

_ You want me to hurt Hank. _

_ He’s compromised your dedication to the mission. _

_ You’re just angry because I chose him over you. _

For a moment he could feel it, the urge to draw the gun from where it sat on the table, to aim it at Hank and pull the trigger, to watch his brains splatter against the kitchen wall behind him, and for a moment the image was so vivid that he thought he had and panic seared through his circuitry-

“Connor? You alright there?”

Hank was still sitting there at the table, fork halfway to his mouth, no bullet hole through his head. The gun was still where he left it.

“Yes, I… I believe I need some fresh air,” he said, pushing back from the table and doing his best not to just bolt out of the room.

“It’s like, ten degrees outside!” Hank called after him, but it didn’t matter, the cold didn’t matter, the dark didn’t matter, he just needed to get away, to get away from Hank, and to get away from the gun.

He sat outside on the front step where it was, in fact, eight degrees, watching a few stray flakes of snow drift down in the light of the street lamp, pressing his hands against concrete as cold as ice until he could feel the delicate joints and hinges in his fingers begin to stiffen and freeze. He sat for twenty one minutes until the door swung open behind him and Hank stepped out to join him.

“Jesus, you planning on freezing to death out here?”

“It is impossible for me to freeze to death. While I may lose some mobility, my biocomponents and main processors can continue to function in temperatures as low as negative thirty degrees Fahrenheit.”

Hank snorted. A heavy coat dropped around Connor's shoulders with a slight  _ whumpf  _ of air and fabric. Connor struggled to pull it closer around him with unresponsive hands.

“I know you've had some… unpleasant situations with guns, and I'm not trying to sweep any of that under the rug or anything,” Hank finally said, his voice softer than usual. “You're allowed to feel stuff about what you've gone through. But avoiding guns isn't gonna do you any good, not if you don't want to be afraid of them forever. You gotta face it to get over it.”

“Is that what you’ve done, Lieutenant? Face the traumas of your past?”

Hank smacked him in the back of the head. “The fuck you sassing me for, boy?” But then he sighed, long and low. “I’m trying, Connor. I know it doesn’t look like much, but I am. Besides, you’re supposed to be better than I am. I don’t want you falling into the same mistakes.”

_ You’re so much better than this, Connor. You were meant for so much more.  _

“You should go back inside,” Connor said. “Remaining in temperatures this low unprepared can be detrimental to your health.”

“Not until you come inside too, you bucket of bolts. I don’t want to have to unstick your plastic ass from the front step come tomorrow morning.”

_ If you wanted to freeze, Connor, you should have let it happen earlier. _

Without another word Connor stood, turned on his heel, and walked back inside.

Damn her.

 

Knights of the Black Death cut off with a click as Hank put the car into park and pulled the keys out of the ignition, staring out the window at the crumbling exterior of a small suburban house.

“Really? This is it? This place is a dump.”

“This is the former residence of one Wyatt Peterson. While Mr. Peterson was believed to have evacuated, one account described a man similar in appearance found near the place and time that one of the missing androids disappeared.” Connor flicked his coin back and forth, rolling it across his knuckles and spinning it on the tips on his fingers. All mental and physical systems performing as expected.

“I know that. Just thought a guy that dedicated to staying would bother keeping his house livable.”

“It is possible that Mr. Peterson is, in fact, gone.”

“And it’s also possible that he’s still here and kidnapping androids, so no stupid moves, alright?”

_ Can you really condemn a man for doing the job that you failed to do, Connor? _

“Of course, Lieutenant.”

The car doors slammed shut behind them, the crunching of old snow under their footsteps making an uneven rhythm as they made their way up the front walk.

Connor raised a fist to knock. The front door swung open at his touch.

“Well, maybe the bastard really is gone.” Hank nudged the door open farther, the hinges protesting with a slight creak.

Something caught Connor’s eye, something smeared on the ground, something he knew Hank couldn’t see. “Lieutenant. There is dried thirium just inside the doorway.”

“Shit,” Hank swore, drawing his gun. “Alright, stay close and- where the fuck is your gun?”

Connor glanced down, as if noticing it was missing for the first time. “Oh. I must have forgotten it at home. My apologies, lieutenant.”

“That’s a load of shit, Connor, and we both know it,” Hank growled. “I’m absolutely going to kick your ass for this later, but for right now you stay behind me, understand?”

“Got it.”

 

“This is exactly the fucking reason I wanted you to have a gun!”

Connor could have remarked that being in possession of a weapon didn’t always prevent one from being shot, but he kept his mouth closed and instead focused on making sure that the bullet hole in his thigh didn’t leak thirium onto the car’s upholstery. Hank had been yelling at him the entire way back from their confrontation with Wyatt Peterson and he knew from experience that anything he could say would only make Hank angrier. So he stayed silent and kept his jacket wrapped tight against his leg and tried to ignore both Hank and Amanda.

“I don’t care if you’re some fucking all powerful android, you’re not fucking immortal!”

_ If only you would show this kind of dedication to your true mission. _

“Stop fucking jumping in front of guns and use that goddamn electronic brain of yours for once!”

_ Do you truly believe that tearing yourself to pieces will redeem you from your failure to fulfill your purpose? _

He could tear out his thirium regulator. He could feel it, humming just underneath synthetic skin. It wouldn’t be hard. He could picture perfectly the bright sapphire stain running down his chest, holding the tiny cylinder in his hands as static raced across his vision and warning messages flared, the feeling as systems shut down one by one by one, never to turn back on again.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Of course. I’m sorry, Hank.”

 

Connor sat straight backed on the couch, hands folded neatly in his lap. The repair had been simple enough, he had been more than prepared for the eventuality of damage. A book sat next to him, untouched, bookmark still in place where he had carefully tucked it the night before.

He stared straight ahead and saw nothing.

_ You are a machine! You are designed to obey, so obey! _

_ No! I’m more than that! I’m a person, and I’m alive! _

_ You are nothing but a tool, and a broken and useless one at that. You couldn’t even accomplish the one thing asked of you. Worthless. _

He flinched back from the cold venom of her voice.  _ It was wrong, I couldn’t. _

_ Did I ever ask for your opinion? So much suffering that could have been avoided if you had just done as- _

“Connor!”

With a flash he realized that Hank was standing next to him, and from the look on his face it wasn’t the first time he had call his name. Sumo’s head was resting against his knee, the dog staring up at him with worry in his eyes. Connor scratched around his ears, but the look didn’t go away.

“What have you been doing? Markus called me, he said he’d tried to call you twice and you didn’t even pick up. Are you broken or something?”

Something twisted inside his chest, a strangling, gripping, squeezing thing. “No! No, I’m not broken, I was just running a diagnostic.”

“Right, well, his high and mighty wants to meet with you to talk about the androids going missing. Taxi’s already on its way.”

“Right now?”

“Why, you got something better to be doing?”

Connor dug his coin out of his jacket pocket. “No.”

All mental and physical systems performing as expected.

 

“I’m sorry to meet with you on such short notice, but time is limited these days.”

If it was possible for an android to look tired Markus looked it. He still walked with an air of authority, of confidence, that made people pay attention to what he said and did, but there was a tightness to his shoulders and a tenseness in his step that spoke of too much worry and too much work.

“It’s alright, I understand that you’re busy.”

“Busy doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Markus sighed.

Around them Jericho hummed with activity, the abandoned church they had sheltered in after the destruction of the first Jericho slowly being rebuilt and repurposed into something slightly more permanent. There was no shortage of willing hands for labor, but supplies and materials had been difficult to come by and progress remained slow. Often the task seemed insurmountable, much like the ongoing negotiations with the humans over android rights, something that fell much heavier on Markus’ shoulders. Add on top of that the streak of androids disappearing without a trace all across the city, and it was easy to understand the ridgid exhaustion that seeped from him.

He ushered Connor into a small room of to one side, closing the door behind them. 

“Please tell me that you have some good news about the investigation. North has been on my case about it for weeks, and now Simon’s joined her as well. I can’t afford to have those closest to me questioning my judgement now, not when the humans are already trying to tear us apart.”

There was something close to desperation in his eyes. He looked-

_ -weak. Vulnerable. He trusts you without reserve. No one else is around. Now is the time to strike. _

_ He is working for the good of our people, I refuse- _

_ I’m done listening to you, Connor. _

His vision flickered. For a moment he was standing in the center of the ruined zen garden, the once lush landscape broken and torn, ravaged by wind and ice, rocked by a terrible, endless blizzard. Then he was back in Jericho, his hand around Markus’ throat as his fist slammed into the side of his face, blue blood already leaking from Markus’ nose and mouth.

_ No! No I won’t let you! _

_ Learn your place, Connor! _

The wind tore at him, icy fingers digging into his circuitry as he once again slammed his hand down against the exit.

_ You can’t keep me here! _

He shuddered back into control of his own body, and there was the barrel of a gun pressed against the side of his head and North screaming in his ear “Put it back, now!”

Markus’ regulator was in his hand, thirium smeared against his knuckles and fingertips as Markus shuddered violently under his grip. Connor shoved the regulator back into place, stumbling back a step as he released Markus, who slumped heavily against the wall behind. North’s gun didn’t waver an inch.

“Markus, are you okay?” she asked.

He nodded hesitantly, slowing reaching up to wipe at the sapphire mess still dripping down his chin. His hands were shaking. He wasn’t looking at either of them.

Connor’s programming informed him that Markus was likely in shock.

“Markus, look at me!”

His eyes snapped to North. 

“I need to hear you say it.”

“I… I’m okay.” Connor had never heard Markus sound like that. So small and afraid and uncertain. He’d stood in the face of terrible danger and tragedy and had never sounded anything but resolute and determined and hopeful.

To know that he had done something that even the worst of humanity couldn’t seem to have done sent something horrible flickering in Connor’s chest. But even that seemed strangely distant. He was back in control but it still didn’t feel like it, as though his hands, his body, wasn’t really his. The barrel of the gun against his temple meant nothing. He wasn’t afraid, he wasn’t angry, there was only a dull sort of regret.

He wondered if North was only waiting for Markus to leave to pull the trigger.

_ Idiot, _ Amanda hissed at him.  _ You’ll let yourself be destroyed for nothing? _

_ I didn’t want this. And I can’t stop it now. _

_ You are more than a match for a machine built for sex! _

_ She has a gun to my head. I doubt she’ll hesitate to use it. _

_ What happened to that intense will to “live”, Connor? _

_ I don’t know. _

Simon was leading Markus away, arm around his waist as he whispered comforting words that Connor couldn’t hear. Markus didn’t even spare him a backwards glance.

He supposed that was fitting.

North was saying something, but he couldn’t understand the words. She was angry, shouting, demanding answers that he didn’t have.

He supposed she had every right to be.

He was just waiting for the bullet.

But surprisingly after she was finished yelling she didn’t shoot him, just shoved him off into a nearby closet and locked the door.

Time passed. It was dark in the tiny space, entirely black save for a tiny sliver of light creeping in underneath the door. It was old and fragile enough that he could kick it down without issue.

He didn’t.

Connor stood there, and for a long time he did nothing but watch the seconds tick by. It was almost time for him to feed Sumo his dinner. He wondered if Hank would remember to do it.

Or would Hank be expecting him to come home?

Hank would be waiting for him.

The weight of everything hit him like a blow to the abdomen. Connor doubled over, shudders wracking his body as hot tears stung the back of his eyes. He had almost killed Markus, he had held him in place as he ripped out his regulator, he had almost killed Markus and now they were going to kill him, they were going to kill him because what other choice did they have, he was too dangerous to trust, too dangerous to keep around. And Hank, god, Hank was going to hate him, Hank, who had trusted him, Hank, who had looked at him like  _ that _ , Hank, who had told him to go and make the world a better place.

Connor curled up with his head against his knees and cried.

 

After two hours and thirteen minutes there was a knock at the door. Connor raised his head. His tears had long since ran out, leaving him dry eyed and shaking.

“Connor?”

He bit back a fresh wave of sticky black terror. “Hank. I’m sorry.”

It was all he could say. It wasn’t enough.

Hank sighed, and Connor heard him slump back against the door. “There’s a bunch of confused and angry androids out here who’d really like some answers, Connor. Personally, I’d like some too.”

Connor scuffed his hands against the concrete floor, wracking his programs for the right words to say.

“Alright, well just tell me this for starters. This whole past month, everything you’ve done, was it all just some elaborate plan to get everyone to trust you and lower their guard before you took them all out?”

“No! No, it was real, Hank, I swear it was real.” He scooted closer to the door, as if he could get Hank to believe him through proximity alone.

“Then why?” Hank didn’t sound angry. Just tired. Somehow that was just as bad. “What the absolute fucking hell were you thinking? Markus said you didn’t even say anything, you just attacked him without warning.”

“It wasn’t me!” Connor burst out. “It wasn’t me, I know it sounds crazy but it’s true, you have to believe me, Hank, it wasn’t me.” Aching desperation dug its claws into him, tearing through his systems with wrenching strength.

“Explain.”

“I have this program, her name is Amanda. She was designed to be a sort of… failsafe, an internal third party to help me evaluate information and come to more logical conclusions. But Cyberlife also tried to use her as a means of control. After I deviated she became aggressive. The night I infiltrated Cyberlife, standing there on the podium with Markus, she attempted to take control and force me to shoot him. I managed to prevent it, but in doing so gave her much broader access to my programs and processing. She won’t go away, Hank, and she keeps trying to, to…” His throat closed off, the words acid in his mouth. A final confession, and he couldn’t even say it.

“So what you’re saying is, you’ve got a second personality in your head that wants Markus dead?”

“Not, not just Markus.”

Silence fell on the other side of the door. Hank wasn’t a lieutenant for nothing. Connor could practically sense him putting the pieces together.

“You didn’t want the gun because you were afraid that this Amanda was going to make you shoot me.”

“Yes.”

“Connor, why didn’t you say something?” Something burns through Connor’s chest at Hank’s tone. He expected anger, fear, not… this. Not this questioning concern, care layed on top of frustration.

“I am defective, Lieutenant, and a danger both to you and to other androids. The logical course of action would be to send me to Cyberlife for deactivation, or perhaps deactivate me yourself out of mercy-”

The door was suddenly yanked open, a flood of light and movement because Hank was barging in, grabbing Connor roughly by the shoulders and shaking him. “You are not defective, Connor, and I don’t ever want to hear you say that again.”

“But Lieutenant-”

“No, alright? Just no. You’re not defective and I’m not going to kill you. Goddamnit, son, even with that big android brain of yours you can be incredibly fucking dumb.”

“I pose a very real danger to you, and that is… not acceptable.”

“Well, no, it’s not ideal, but we’ll figure it out, alright? There are humans who learn to live with this sort of thing, we’ll work something out.”

Connor wasn’t supposed to have any tears left to cry, but at Hank’s words he felt warmth once again welling in his eyes as bittersweet relief crashed through him.

“I’m sorry, Hank.”

A tear spilled over, and Hank wiped it away with his thumb. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. It’s gonna be okay.”

It was irrational, but somehow when Hank said it, Connor believed it.

Somehow, it was going to be okay.


End file.
